A Thousand Winds That Blow
by Conn8d
Summary: There is no life too small to leave an impact. Together, Jackson and April learn to live in a world without their firstborn son. Spoilers for s11.


**A/N: Hi everyone. I know, I know. I have other stories that haven't been updated in ages! And I promise I am working on them, and they will be updated very soon but I just had to get this out. It won't be as long, just a few chapters. ****How are we all coping? My own extended family has experience with infant loss at birth so I know that last week's episode certainly hit very close to home for me. Losing a child is one of the most devastating and life altering things that can happen to anyone, but I think that Jackson and April are both strong enough to survive. This story is how I imagine they might navigate their grief. Thank you so much for reading and please let me know what you think.**

* * *

_Do not stand at my grave and weep  
__I am not there, I do not sleep__  
_

The first night at home was hell.

Absolute hell.

April drifted in and out of sleep fitfully. Her body and mind exhausted and spent, while her arms remained achingly empty. She and Jackson curled together in the middle of the large master bed with Samuel's tiny hospital blanket clutched between them.

They let you keep one of the blankets.

Every time she closed her eyes she was back in the hospital room with Jackson and Samuel. April could remember every detail vividly. Exactly how his weight felt in her arms. How light he was. How tiny. How warm and gentle Jackson's arms felt wrapped around the both of them. How safe he'd made them feel. Their whole family. A universe unto themselves for a very short while.

That small amount of time was her son's entire life, and April was glad that all he'd known was her and Jackson's loving embrace. Samuel knew nothing of hatred or malice. She hoped he knew nothing of fear. And she'd done her best to ensure he had not only known pain, even though he was condemned to know at least some by the very code of his DNA. She remembered the way Samuel shivered nearly every time he moved or jostled and how still she tried to be in order to spare him more hurt. Herman had wrapped the baby well, but through the blankets April had felt his legs and the bones that were already broken.

No miracles.

April remembered how surprised and delighted they were to find that, despite having no hair at all on his head, Samuel had the most beautiful eyelashes. She'd noticed them when his eyes fluttered at the feeling of cool water on his bare skin as the pastor conducted his baptism. His tiny brow had furrowed slightly while the other man spoke his blessing and in that moment Samuel looked so much like Jackson when he was skeptical that April smiled. They had marveled in him and how peaceful he seemed, despite it all.

She could still feel his tiny hand wrapped around her finger. The squeeze. And when he let go. Even though it was inevitable, even though she knew he had to leave her and there was no way he could stay, she hated remembering when Samuel let go.

Every time she opened her eyes, for a split second, April forgot. Disoriented from sleep, she would yawn and stretch and lean her head closer against Jackson's chest, taking a moment to listen to the strong steady beating of his heart before reaching down her arms to cradle her belly. Their Buddha boy. But then she always found her stomach empty and distended and she remembered that Jackson's heart was as broken as hers and it all came rushing back like an unstoppable tsunami of horror and despair that threatened to drown her. _Did _drown her.

Samuel was gone. Her baby was dead.

It was too much to process.

The bile would rise in her throat and April pulled away from Jackson's grip, stumbling from the bed on shaky legs to the master bathroom before trying to empty the contents of an already empty stomach into the toilet. But the ache in her muscles was nothing compared to the ache she felt in her soul. She cried even though there were no more tears left to cry and was always relieved to feel Jackson behind her, running a soothing hand down her back until she was ready to try to sleep again.

Jackson always followed her.

April couldn't count how many times the cycle repeated but when she found could see light creeping into the bathroom from the rising sun, she felt a wave of guilt.

Still uncomfortably hunched over the toilet with Jackson's hands making small circles on her back, April moaned.

"Oh God," she rested her head on her arms and closed her eyes for a moment as another wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm her. When the moment passed April turned back to look at her husband's teary gaze. He looked as exhausted as she felt.

"I'm sorry I kept you up."

"Nothing to be sorry for," Jackson assured her, moving his hands to April's shoulders and squeezing gently. "I can't really sleep either. I don't-I don't think I want to yet..."

His voice shook and April felt a lump form in her throat. He was a mess and right now she didn't know what to do for him because she was a mess too. They were a mess. Jackson had been wonderful and supportive from the moment they'd heard their baby's diagnosis, and April didn't think she'd have been able to do this with any shred of sanity without him by her side.

He deserved to be taken care of as much as he was caring for her.

And yet, April didn't think she could give him what he needed. Now, she couldn't even help herself. All she could do for Jackson that first morning was turn around and pull him into a fierce embrace. It was certainly not enough. April wished she could help more, but she didn't know what else to do. Because she was broken too.

"We don't have to sleep," April offered weakly, tears falling onto Jackson's shirt. She raised one hand to his cheek, wiping away the wetness she found there. Before Samuel, she rarely saw her husband cry. "We don't have to do anything today. We can just stay here together. We can do that."

Those words took her breath away.

He nodded, sniffling audibly, and lifting her up into his lap as she rested her head at the crook of his neck. They rocked back and forth, finding some relief in the motion. Jackson had Samuel's blanket draped across his shoulder and April could still smell her baby boy and for another small while she felt like they were the whole universe again.

All free of the agony of the night and day before.

By the time the sun fully rose, Jackson and April were sound asleep on the bathroom floor.

* * *

Jackson had spent his life trying to capture some semblance of control over his own destiny.

He couldn't control the fact that he was born the pretty one. He couldn't help that he was born as an Avery. He couldn't help that his father had left him behind. He couldn't help that he'd lost many friends. That was life. Existence in the universe. Things just _happened._ It was your job to find a way to deal with whatever crap got thrown your way as best you could. And so growing up he focused his energy finding and mastering the things he could control. Jackson developed discipline and worked hard to get into medical school, proving that he was more than just his looks. When handed the keys to Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital, Jackson did his best to lead with authenticity, rather than Avery authority alone.

And when he found out that his own unborn child was doomed?

First, he'd wanted to scream. To be honest, he still _wanted_ to scream. Or maybe break something. And he wanted desperately to change places with his son. He'd gladly lay down his own life if it meant that his Samuel could live.

April had hit the nail on the head. None of it was fair. None of it was just. All of it was out of their control. A genetic roll of the dice that was problematic even before they knew a baby existed. So Jackson tried to control the only things he could. He did not leave April or his son behind. Shell shocked and devastated as he'd been, Jackson knew that right from the moment he'd heard the diagnosis. He wasn't going to shy away from the pain of it all. He wasn't going to break under the pressure.

April and Samuel had needed him not to fall apart. Now, Jackson amended with a gulp, just April needed that. And focusing on them distracted him from his own feelings.

Knowing that rationally, there would be very little he could physically do for Samuel alone, Jackson had poured all his energy into caring for his son's mother. He couldn't give birth for her. April was the one who's body nourished and protected their son. She was the one who was going to push their baby into the world, but he was going to be right there with her, holding her hand the entire time.

Jackson couldn't die in Samuel's place, but he could do everything in his power to ensure that the passing was as peaceful and painless as possible. And that the baby knew love. He'd set about doing everything in he could to make sure that April got through this and got to a place where she could be what their son needed her to do and be. Because if she could get to that place, then he would too. Jackson held her as she cried. He'd watched with heavy heart as she struggled with the choice and her faith, and the crushing cold reality that their son would never be _that kid_.

He'd even begged a deity he didn't believe existed to show up for the woman he loved.

Jackson didn't know what was more crazy; going to the chapel at all or entertaining the idea now that perhaps in some weird way his plea had worked. Because he'd seen April crack, watched helplessly as she'd distracted herself from reality by working and praying for a miracle that they both knew intellectually was impossible. Then somehow, something in her changed. She'd gathered her courage, found the strength within that Jackson always suspected she had but never wanted her have to use, and she gave birth to their beautiful son. And they'd named him and held him and loved him every moment of his short life. April had been everything Samuel and Jackson needed to get through the whole thing.

Perhaps Jackson himself did not have faith in God, but he did have faith in April.

As much as he'd struggled to accept and understand her faith since she'd blurted it out to him in the hallway of a hotel at their board exams, Jackson actually understood now how integral this belief system was to the person April was as well as the one she strived to be. The person that he loved. A person who loved Jackson and Samuel both. More than ever before, in the days leading up to their son's diagnosis, being there for April and their baby was his sole motivation, even when it meant leaving some space in their lives for God.

Though he was afraid that underneath it all, Jackson's own heart was shattered.

And as much contention and conflict his relationship with Catherine had, it was his mother who'd given Jackson the plan he'd needed to make it this far. Just the right plan to get his son, his wife, and himself through this. At least to the end of Samuel's life.

Now, cradling his wife to his chest as they lay on the cold hard floor of their lavish master bathroom, stiff from spending the morning sleeping there rather than in his bed, Jackson felt lost. He realized he didn't really know how to be in a world where his son was no longer living, even though he'd hardly experienced a world with Samuel alive. How strange it was, to miss someone you barely had the chance to know. Barely even had the chance to touch. Samuel was gone and Jackson was never going to see him again.

He'd spent the night following April back and forth from the bed to the bathroom, able to offer little more than his shoulder to cry on.

Looking down at her face, gently cradled in his lap, Jackson brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek. April had cried in her sleep. The dark circles of exhaustion present beneath her eyes held small pools of moisture. The mid afternoon sun shone fully into the small space, hitting April's hair and face. Looking beautiful, despite it all. Finally, after a night of nightmares it seemed that she'd found some peace. She'd managed a little throughout the night, but clearly not much by the way of actual rest. Jackson felt trapped in wakefulness. He wasn't usually one to dream, but he was more than a little afraid of what awaited him after he closed his eyes.

Jackson was both relieved and disappointed to find that his brief sleep that first morning was empty and dreamless.

But now he was wide awake. And without a plan. Tired of staying still. He felt cooped up and useless. What did you do when you were too agitated to sleep on the first day of life without your child? Did you make coffee? Get the paper? Watch the game?

All that seemed pointless so now.

A growl that emanated from his stomach, causing April to shift and murmur in her sleep. And that gave him some direction. He needed sustenance. Glancing down at his wife, he made a decision. She would need to eat too eventually, but on that first day he thought letting her sleep might be more important to help her body recover.

So, Jackson gathered his fragile wife in his arms and carried her back to the bedroom. April stirred a little as he placed her gently on the mattress, wrapping the sheet and comforter around her as though they could protect her from her pain. Reaching to his shoulder, Jackson gently grasped his fingers around Samuel's blanket, reveling in how soft it was, and suddenly struck by the memory of being a small child pressed into ridiculous and itchy little outfits at Avery family functions. For a brief, giddy and irrational moment, Jackson considered that son would never have to experience that indignity.

Pulling the blanket from his shoulder, Jackson carefully transferred the cloth to his wife's relaxed hands, sighing as she immediately and innately seemed to recognize the object, holding it close and cradling it almost she same way she had when the baby was alive. He crept out of the room, and went directly toward the kitchen, planning to make a quick and easy, not wanting to be far from April for very long.

But he never got his toast.

The sight of the crib, visible through the partially open nursery door as he walked down the hallway brought Jackson to his knees. He was powerless to control the wave of panic, anger, despair, and hopelessness that washed over him as he could see in his minds eye all the moments he'd planned that were now lost to him. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. He couldn't stop the tears.

Jackson couldn't even manage to crawl over to the door to pull it shut, even though he desperately wanted to hide the crushing evidence of all he'd lost from view. He fumbled his way over to the wall, sighing heavily as he leaned his head back against the cool surface. A strangled cry escaped his lips as he struggled to calm down. He covered his mouth, straining to keep his sobs quiet and secret from the woman he loved sleeping in the next room.

April needed him not to fall apart.

Taking deep desperate breaths, Jackson wiped his eyes, determined to secure some sort of control over this unwelcome outburst. Out of the corner of his eye the glint of his phone caught his attention. By chance carelessly deposited on the hall table on the way to the bedroom the previous night. Overcome by a sudden urge not to bear all the responsibility of holding firm, he reached out dialing a number and holding the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" His mother's weary voice was like a beacon in a storm.

"Mom-" Jackson sniffed, leaning his head back against the wall behind him and holding his free hand to his forehead. "I can't-I was trying to make breakfast and I wanted to go to the kitchen but I can't go past-"

Jackson wasn't usually one to blubber or to have trouble speaking, but today was a first in more than one respect. He couldn't do something so simple as walk past the nursery door for starters.

"Oh Jackson," Catherine soothed, in tone he honestly couldn't recall her using since he was a very small child.

Feeling suddenly awkward, Jackson finally felt like he was getting some control over his body. Straightening his shoulders, he tried to speak more rationally. "We hard a rough night. Really rough. It's just hard to see the...nursery."

"Honey," he knew from her voice that Catherine was crying. "I am _so_ sorry. I can't imagine how hard this is for you. And April?"

"She's asleep."

"What can I do to help, baby? Whatever I can do, I will. What do you need?"

For some reason that question threw Jackson for a loop. What he really needed was impossible. Mom, could you bring back my dead baby boy? He wasn't used to needing her like this. Jackson was used to being needed. But right now, Catherine was the one person who he could fall apart in front of.

"I..." Jackson fumbled, finally settling on the only thing he could think would potentially even make a difference. He felt like he didn't want himself and April to be alone. "Can you come over?"

"Of course."

Fifteen minutes later, he was still sitting in the hall when his mother arrived. Catherine reached down and grabbed hold of Jackson's hands, pulling him briskly to his feet and then into her warm embrace.

Together they walked over to the nursery and shut the door.

* * *

April's mother had left in short order after fighting with Jackson, supposedly to update the rest of the family. Never mind the fact that she hadn't been home long enough to find out the test results in person. But April wasn't as bothered by all of that as she thought she would be. She wasn't as bothered as she probably should have been, but she just couldn't bring herself to worry about it.

She just didn't have the energy. Despite all her trouble sleeping the first night, April was overtaken by a wall of exhaustion the next. And the day after that. And the day after.

Karen might not agree with the choice April made (in fact she was sure her mother's silence and absence meant that she didn't at all agree). The hard line pro life position of her mother's congregation back in Ohio left very little room for situations like this. To them, this choice was a termination. An abortion against the teachings of their faith. But it wasn't so clear cut. The choice she'd made with her husband was best for their child and there was no way April would let her fears about her mother or the church or anyone else make her feel guilty about that decision.

Frankly, April mused, surprised by her own bitterness, they could _all_ fuck off.

The only people she worried about disappointing were Jackson and Samuel. And possibly God. April didn't think she'd let her son down in the short time he'd spend on earth. At least she hoped with all her being that she had not. She'd poured everything she was into being what her son needed in his brief existence. And she was trying not to let Jackson down, even if she didn't feel like she was succeeding.

April wasn't sure what to do with God those first few days. She didn't feel like praying, though her bible wasn't far away, sitting on the night stand. She didn't feel like talking to a pastor or going to a service. She just felt overwhelmed and confused.

She ached for Samuel.

Before giving birth, all April could think about was the why. Not the medical scientific why. She understood that. It was the other _why. _The hand that guided the science. Why did this have to happen? Why did God let this happen to _her_? To Jackson. To their baby. Was it because of her sins? People she'd hurt? Had she not lived her life as God intended? But after Samuel was gone, the why didn't seem as important. He was in heaven; he had to be. She didn't think she could cope with him being gone, but nothing could change the course of events. It had happened and there was no turning back.

So too did her feelings about her mother change like the flip of a switch. Her abandonment and condemnation would once have driven April to the edge with questions of _why_. What had she done that was so bad? Was she really such a terrible daughter? Enough that her mother would leave not only April, but her grandchild behind? But April was already well and truly over the edge and none of these questions seemed to matter anymore. Because her mother was already gone. It had happened and there was no turning back.

And maybe that wasn't why her mom left at all. Karen never did respond well to fights or disagreements. She wasn't great with conflict or big emotions either. Karen had a low tolerance for ambiguity and nuance. She just might not have known how to cope, and frankly whatever issues her mother had didn't matter to April anymore. She'd been able to stay with her child in his time of need, while Karen could not.

It wasn't her problem. Couldn't be her problem at this point. She could barely find the will to get out of bed.

Jackson and April soon discovered that Karen must have cared about them on some level. The neatly organized and frozen food that filled their fridge was sign enough. The kitchen was practically stuffed full of Karen's cooking and baking. Enough meals to last them for days. Probably the whole month even, given how small April's appetite was.

So that was something.

And where her own mother could only offer cooking and brief mostly one sided phone calls, Jackson's mother stepped in to offer so much more. It was Catherine who wiped her tears and told her that Samuel was safe in God's care and that she was loved. It was Catherine who made sure that Jackson and April were fed, rousing them periodically when they needed to eat or drink.

Despite not sharing the same beliefs, it was Catherine who promised April she would pray for Samuel, not Karen.

Jackson seemed to snap out of the bed funk fairly quickly; by the second day he would get up on his own and shower at least. Sometimes he'd come back and stay with April in the bed for a while, holding her and kissing her. Telling her he loved her. Those first few days she didn't talk much. Maybe couldn't. Jackson seemed to understand. So they only spoke the words that really mattered. Sometimes, once April was asleep, he would get up and stay up, walking around the house as though the walls were made of paper.

But then, April supposed with another rush of guilt, there were still things to be done. Details to be handled. Out of the two of them, Jackson was the only one in any position to really act. She didn't feel like eating or talking. Breathing and thinking felt like a gargantuan effort in and of themselves. All she could due was lay numbly in the bed, curled up in the fetal position with Samuel's baby blanket close to her chest, listening to the whispered conversations of her husband and mother in law outside the bedroom. Even that felt like too much sometimes.

She wasn't much use to anyone, least of all herself.

And when closed her eyes, the dreams were usually still there and she was back in the hospital room with Jackson and Samuel. Only once her exhaustion had hit, sometimes the dream was different from the truth. It was almost the same, but somehow comforting and not devastating. Samuel didn't shift in pain. His skin didn't seem as translucent and Jackson had a turn to hold him while April watched.

Best of all, the time didn't feel so short.

She knew it was a dream that didn't line up with her own detailed waking memory. But it was a welcome respite from being awake, so April let herself sleep her days and nights away. Awake, she ached for the baby she would never hold again in this life. So April surrendered herself to the welcome embrace of unconsciousness.

At least there he was in her arms again.

The days that followed were a total blur. April didn't protest or feel any embarrassment when Catherine helped her bathe and dress in clean sweats day in and day out, even if it was in preparation for another day spent in bed, nor did she mind when when she heard Richard come into the house to sit with them. She took comfort in their words and embraces. She was glad that someone could be there for Jackson when she clearly could not.

Beyond that first night, Jackson and April never seemed to be completely alone. If Catherine or Richard weren't there, someone else seemed to be too. April didn't leave her room and mostly drifted in and out of sleep, but she could hear people in her home at various times tripping over themselves to be quiet, as though there really was an infant to worry about waking. Hunt by her bedside, Bailey in the kitchen, Robbins in the hall. From her bed, she could hear it all. Once, while half asleep, April could have sworn she heard the voice of Derek Shepherd's sister in her living room.

She dimly wondered whether she was supposed to feel grateful or something, for finally attaining her coworkers support and sympathy. But April couldn't muster any sort of response. She only felt numb.

She wasn't exactly sure how someone was supposed to respond to losing their child. But April was satisfied, if not content, to let the world pass her by as she lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take her to see her baby boy again.

Once, she heard Webber and Jackson begin to quietly dismantle the nursery. That day, April found the strength to go down the hallway, Samuel's blanket resting across her shoulder as Jackson had done. She nodded when both Jackson and Richard offered greeting and watched blankly as the two men carefully deconstructed the Kepner crib in preparation for it's return to Moline.

Eyeing the packed boxes around the room, a part of April wondered what they would do with the rest of it, the onsies, the bottles, the toys. Not like it was going to be used any time soon. Her eyes filled with tears. For the first time in days April felt something other than sadness. Her nostrils flared. She was angry.

"So soon? Without even talking to me?"

Richard's hands paused on the crib and his eyes flicked from Jackson to April. He focused on Jackson for a split second longer, with a look that to April could only mean, 'I told you so'. The older man seemed to want to say something, but remained silent, placing his tools on the ground and settling his body against the wall, seemingly waiting to see how things played out.

Jackson winced and dropped his gaze to the crib.

Surveying the room once more, April crossed her arms. She didn't really want to look at it all, in fact she wanted to close her eyes and block it all out but she couldn't quite come to terms with the idea of getting rid of it all either. Not Samuel's things. Or what should have been his things. Not without _some_ say. She felt like she had so little say in any of this.

If God had given her a say in any of this, her son would be alive.

"April?" Jackson asked nervously, as though he was sensing her thoughts. "I didn't mean to leave you out. I-I just thought...it's hard to walk by here, even with the door closed, you know? Maybe that's why you...I promise I'm not getting rid of anything. Well, I thought we could send the crib back to your mom. But everything else is-I got us a storage unit, just down the road. So if we ever wanted to go and look at any if it we could just...it just wouldn't be _here_."

She let her eyes continue to roam around the room, taking in the still hung zoo animals on the far wall. The thought of an always empty crib did make her sick to her stomach. Watching April closely Jackson added, "But I'm sorry. I should have talked to you. None of has to go there if you don't want it too."

April sighed, her anger rushing away as quickly as it had come and leaving her more tired than she already was. She leaned heavily against the door frame thinking of all the daydreams she'd had about her baby and this room. April's continued silence seemed to unnerve her husband, and his voice dropped lower still.

"It was just hard for me see."

April couldn't argue with that. She didn't think she wanted to worry about Jackson's heart breaking every time he walked down the hall. Especially when she left their bedroom so rarely and he made the journey every day. He was just trying to take care of her. He was trying to take care of both of them. April couldn't fault him for that. Not when she wasn't able to care for Jackson or herself. Her gaze stopped on the still assembled rocking chair in the room.

"No, you're right. It makes sense. The storage unit is a good idea," she said quietly, voice as tired as her body. Jackson's shoulder's sagged with relief as April yawned. "Just one thing; I want to keep the chair. Can we keep the chair here?"

Jackson sniffed and swallowed hard, his eyes closing briefly. He seemed surprised. Richard resumed packing the crib. It the the most she'd said coherently to either of them since the first day.

"Yeah," her husband replied finally. "Of course we can keep the chair here."

April's eyes moved inexplicably back to the animal wall decals, and she found herself making her way through the room to that wall. Jackson jumped to his feet and stood beside her as she traced her fingers along the outline of a cartoon lion.

"And these...I don't think I want to take these down yet."

Wrapping his arms around April's shoulders, he almost laughed, "Actually. That's why they are still up. Neither do I."

She looked at his arms, eyes dropping and said nothing. Jackson frowned and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

It was Richard who broke the silence, remarking sweetly, "Hey, we were going to take a lunch break in a bit. Catherine is warming up pasta. Do you think you want to come eat?"

"Yeah," Jackson agreed. "You haven't been eating enough. Try some lunch with me."

Her husband looked down at her eagerly, eyes suddenly so filled with hope that April had to look away. She pulled her arms to her chest and held Samuel's blanket, staring at the rocking chair. April considered joining her family, she really did, but the more she was awake the more crushed she felt by the reality of it all. The fact that her baby's room was the last real evidence in her home that she'd become a parent at all, and it was getting boxed up and sent away. They look in Jackson's eyes that told her she was scaring him. The devastating fact that the one person she really wanted to be with was Samuel, and that she was never going to rock him to sleep in the dark wood rocking chair.

It was still too much to process.

So April shook her head, almost violently, and backed out of the nursery retreating back to the bedroom before Richard or Jackson could utter a single word more.

* * *

April seemed to sleep all the time, while Jackson barely slept at all.

It worried him. It made him feel lonely. Like it wasn't just Samuel he'd lost, but April too.

Jackson checked on his wife constantly, day and night. He spent much of his day curled by her side. He lay awake at night, watching her to make sure she was still breathing. Also he watched to make sure she didn't ingest anything that would cause her to stop. Every time he passed the medicine cabinet, Jackson found himself double and triple counting pills. It was a somewhat irrational fear, he knew and he had yet to voice it to his mother or anyone else. But suddenly to Jackson it didn't feel so unthinkable. Unthinkable things had happened in his life enough already. Losing their son was not an easy reality to adjust too. He struggled himself with the will to go on.

Even so, Jackson didn't think April would try to end her life.

Suicide was as much against his wife's beliefs as abortion and sex outside of marriage, but then again, _technically_...

He shook himself and turned his gaze back down at the woman in his arms. It was the middle of the night, and objectively the fact that his wife was asleep right now wasn't completely unusual. He had no doubt that most people in the apartment building were actually asleep right now. But he also had no doubt that none of his neighbors had spent the day (and certainly not the last 5 days) mostly sleeping as his wife had.

Jackson was afraid of her sleeping.

However, if he was honest, Jackson found that he was also felt afraid when April was awake. He could handle if she wailed and cried, which she did. She wailed and cried sometimes, and Jackson held her close and cried with her. But mostly April just slept and when she was awake she just kind of stared, holding the baby's blanket to her chest. She rarely spoke and that freaked Jackson out. It was like the woman he loved was buried beneath countless impenetrable layers of grief. Like she wasn't even there. Maybe she wasn't.

"Hey," Jackson coaxed, sensing a change in her breathing. He knew she'd woken up, but had yet to open her eyes. April did that a lot. "I love you."

Usually she didn't reply, and he held no hope that she would now either. But he was wrong. April sighed and slid her cold fingers into Jackson's, squeezing gently.

"I wish you'd gotten to hold him," she whispered, eyes still closed. "Before-before he..."

"So do I," Jackson admitted, using his free hand to stroke his wife's unruly hair. April whimpered and he pulled her close. "But you know what? I got to see him and touch him and I'm glad he was with you."

And Jackson meant it. Would he have liked to have had the chance to hold Samuel before he passed? Absolutely. But did he regret sparing his child from the broken bones and pain that movement would have caused? Absolutely not. No matter what, his son's needs came first.

April sniffed and continued plaintively, "I miss him."

"I miss him too." He bit his lip and blinked back tears. "Always..."

His wife nodded and curled close to Jackson, breaths deepening as she began to drift off. Jackson sighed.

April was asleep. Again. He missed her too.

* * *

Jackson went back to the hospital to claim Samuel on the sixth day.

No parent wants to bring home their child from the hospital in a box, but April felt glad that he offered to do it alone. She wasn't up to going back there yet.

Though April hadn't taken much of the information in at the time, when they completed their paperwork, Herman had explained to them that state law mandated that in all infant and fetal deaths of potentially viable gestational age, an autopsy be performed within 24 hours to definitively categorize the cause of death. Even in causes of genetic profiles that were, in the fetal surgeon's clipped words, "incompatible with life". In fact, though the whole thing would take about a week Herman assured them that that's exactly what the pathologist would determine as cause of death.

Genetic incompatibility with life as a result of Type II Osteogenesis Imperfecta.

The whole idea of an autopsy made April shudder. She knew Samuel's spirit was not with his body, but the idea that someone was touching him, _cutting_ him- she closed her eyes. April couldn't even complete the thought really. And all so that the state could cross off some stupid rule and make sure some procedure was followed. Not even a majority owner of the hospital could spare her own grandson the indignity. And Catherine really had tried.

It wasn't fair.

Then the parents had a choice after the state mandated autopsy, and Jackson and April had opted for cremation. Anything beyond that, at least at the time they'd signed the paperwork -before the induction, birth, and Samuel's life- neither one of them had the capacity to decide what would happen to their son's ashes after. Whether he'd get a funeral or a burial plot or anything else.

They still probably didn't have the capacity to decide, but Samuel simply couldn't stay at the Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital anymore.

April's eyes fluttered open when she heard Jackson come home, Catherine greeting him softly as the door closed behind him. She could hear them crying in the living room. And for the first time in days, she found that she was awake and had the will and energy to go out to them. Moving Samuel's blanket to her shoulder, her legs were shaky from days of minimal use. The journey down the hallway toward the living room was slow, but steady. When she reached the threshold to the living room, April paused to take in the sight of her husband and mother in law weeping.

She'd seen Catherine cry a lot this week. She'd seen Jackson cry every day of this miserable horrible week. She'd cried right along with them. But April had never seen Jackson and his mother sob like this. At least, not in front of her. Jackson rested his head on his mother's shoulder and Catherine's arms encircled her son protectively as they cried. April's eyes flicked to the white box sitting on the coffee table. She understood why.

"That's him?"

April's wavering voice seemed loud in contrast to the sound of Jackson and Catherine's tears. They both were surprised to see her. Looking at April closely Jackson seemed unable to speak, but Catherine held out her arms.

"April honey, I didn't know you were awake..."

Venturing to the couch, April settled by her mother in law's side, letting her head rest on Catherine's free shoulder. She never took her eyes off of the box on the table. Lifting her hand, she rested her fingers gently on top of the box lid. Her face twisted and the tears that were a constant companion for so many days appeared once more.

"It's not," Jackson sniffed, using his sleeve to dab at his eyes. "He's there, but...but it's not just him. There's a program we have at Grey Sloan...When we signed the papers we must have said yes. I didn't even realize we did this but for families that want it..."

His eyes flicked from April to his mother uncertainly. Jackson licked his lips, "Do you want to see?"

Both Catherine and Jackson turned to watch April expectantly. As though she was going to break. April didn't feel the need to explain that she was already broken beyond repair and wouldn't have come into the living room at all, if there wasn't some part of her that did want to see. After all, she knew where Jackson and gone and for what purpose.

April felt oddly calm and determined. What was left of her child was finally home.

"I want to. I need to..."

His quivering hand covered April's and together the gently lifted the lid off of the hospital box. Sure enough, in addition to the small wooden box that April immediately knew held her baby's ashes, there was a folder and a picture frame. Nestled in the middle was a stuffed lamb. Peering into the box, together Catherine, Jackson and April began to remove the contents. Catherine ended up with the folder, while April held the lamb and the frame. Jackson lifted Samuel's box into his lap reverently, running his hands along the smooth surface and April was content to let them be.

Turning over the picture frame in her hands, April's hand flew to her mouth as she took in the image. Samuel's full name and the day of his life was bookended by his tiny hand and foot prints. A fairly normal hospital practice for parents of babies that got to go home, but she hadn't expected it to be something she and Jackson would have for their baby. Tracing the small outline of his little toes, April realized that she also never expected something so simple to mean so much.

"Oh my," Catherine breathed, as she fumbled to pull out the contents of the folder.

The level of emotion in her mother in law's voice gave April an idea of what else the memory box included exactly, and for a moment she wasn't sure she was ready to look over to see it. But, clutching both Samuel's hand prints and the stuff lamb to her chest, April turned to take in the prints in her mother in law's unsteady hands.

Pictures.

There he was again. Two times in color and one in black and white. Three professional photographs of her son, clearly taken not long after his passing. There was Samuel. Looking so peaceful against soft cloth that he could almost be sleeping. He was just the same as she remembered him. Exactly as she'd memorized him. Once, the idea of memento mori would have creeped April out, but now looking at the images of her son, she was nothing but grateful. Because something about the photos felt validating. Compassionate. Someone had taken the same time and effort to photograph her little boy that might have been afforded to a living infant. Perhaps even more.

She took a photo into her hands and blinked back tears, "These...these are really nice."

"They are," her husband agreed.

To April, so much about the loss felt empty. The deeply unfair hollowness that the type two diagnosis left in her chest. They left the hospital without their child. Her nursery now only held a rocking chair. But the pictures made her feel like she had more than just her baby's blanket and her damaged soul as evidence of her son's life.

It was like they were saying Samuel was here. He existed. He'd been alive on this earth. And loved.

Jackson was gazing tearfully at the photos as well. "It's a nonprofit we partner with; Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep."

April smiled faintly, "Like the prayer."

"Yeah," he pressed his lips together and nodded. "They organize photographers to take the pictures. I had no idea the hospital even did anything like this, for people like-"

He stumbled over the next word so April nodded, "Us. For parents like us."

They were still parents.

And there were other people in this city who'd gone through the same loss in various ways. Other father's who'd never had the chance to hold their living babies. Other mother's who had to watch their infant's dying breaths. Parents without children. Jackson and April were not alone. A strangely comforting thought.

Still silent, Catherine's eyes were wide with awe and April realized sharply that this was the first time she'd ever seen her grandson. This was the _only_ way she'd ever see Samuel, according to her and Jackson's view of the world. April still held on to the hope that things would work out differently.

After a moment, the older woman was able to pull herself together.

"He was really beautiful."

April nodded, a hint of inexplicable pride swelling up in her chest along with another onslaught of tears. Pushing through, April leaned against her mother in law. Cautiously her eyes moved to her husband's face, "He looks just like his Daddy. Quite the little Avery."

Catherine sniffed, holding one picture up for closer inspection, "He does look a lot like Jackson as a baby."

April had never really talked about what Samuel was like. Only with Jackson and he'd been there every step of the way so he knew for himself. Talking didn't hurt as much as April would have thought. At least with Catherine it didn't. It also didn't pull her in as much as her dreams could, but April did have the inclination to share. She didn't have the desire to retreat back into the bedroom. She wanted Catherine to know about her grandchild. Jackson was watching her, sad and curious expression playing out across his features.

"He was strong, Mom," he added thickly. "His...his bones might not have worked, but Samuel was still strong."

April's breath caught. She could still feel his tiny hand wrapped around her finger. The squeeze. And when he let go.

"Oh, I am sure he was," Catherine agreed. She laid the photographs in her lap and used her arms to pull Jackson and April close as they were all three once more overcome with uncontrollable sobs.

"Just like his parents."


End file.
